Worth It
by bridget smith
Summary: Mitchell's musings before and during The Big Scene in Episode 3. Probably a slightly less romantic and/or hopeful perspective on things.


It's funny. Decades upon decades of carnage, and it was the murder of that pudgy little sod Graham that left my heart feeling the heaviest that it had in a long time. It wasn't so much _his _death. It was all the deaths that had led up to him, the deaths that made my having to kill him necessary in the first place. I was a monster, and the worst of it was that my most heinous acts didn't just die in those brief, chaotic moments in which I did them. They lived on, in the hearts and minds of vampires all over Britain – hell, maybe even the world. It was sickening thinking about it. It was sickening, imagining the faces of those twenty helpless souls as Daisy and I ripped through and destroyed their lives…And the most sickening bit was that tiny, hidden part inside of me that – fuck, _even now_ – still lusted for the drunken high that took over my senses on that train.

But that was over now. The next step was going home, walking over the threshold and telling Annie. Annie. There were still so many muddled feelings swirling inside my brain regarding her. So, she fancied me. But how did I feel about her?

She was lovely, obviously. I'd always believed the idea of someone having "good energy" was total bollocks, until I'd met her. You could _feel _it when Annie was around. And you could definitely feel the lack of it in her absence. As I made my way up the walk to the B&B I thought about those horrible weeks that she was gone, when we didn't know where she was and whether she was alright. I thought about the pain. When Kemp had torn her out of the world, I'd felt like a part of me had been _physically _torn out with her. I still couldn't explain that. I wasn't sure if I wanted to. All I knew was that she was special to me. Important. _Necessary_, even. And she was beautiful…and fragile…and naïve. And I had a long track record of fucking up nearly everything I touched. I didn't want to fuck up one of the only relationships that still mattered to me. How would we even work? She, a ghost, and me…a bloodthirsty killer.

Annie was seated on the couch when I got home, staring quietly into space. I couldn't even look at her, until she asked, "Are you OK?" I could feel the weight of Graham's bag in my hand, its contents pulling me down. I knew I had to tell her. I _had_ to tell her, right? This was What Happened Next. The truth. Finally. Just get it over with, let her and eventually George and Nina grow completely disgusted with me. Hate me, as they should. And then I'd leave, maybe finally join The Old Ones.

But then, she did it. The one thing that I'd been unconsciously waiting for all along. She kissed me. And even as she was doing it, I knew that this was wrong. I knew it would all end in tears. But I didn't care. I was being selfish. I'd decided to let myself believe that she'd forgiven me, despite the fact that I'd left out my most important sin of all. I'd lied to her.

Her lips, though. Her fucking lips. And the _feel _of her, the taste. It wasn't like kissing a human, and certainly not like kissing another vampire. She was cold, she felt half-there. There were so many sensations hitting me at the same time. Kissing her made me feel as if I were floating, as if I were in two places at once: the fucked up reality of my half-existence, and some shining, perfect place that only she could bring me to. It was like…kissing a beloved memory…or…I don't know. It was like I was myself, again. Not Mitchell, but John. Just a shy guy from Clondalkin who liked a drink in the evenings with his mates, who wanted to be a poet, who planned on getting married and starting a family once the war was done. How did she do that?

It wasn't fair. Not her ability to make me forget the chaos in my head – but how shockingly unworthy I was of this uncanny talent of hers. We pulled away, briefly, and she rested her chin against my shoulder. I held her. Was this happening? Was I really going to do this? Was I going to snatch this tiny bit of happiness, even though I knew it couldn't end well? Annie pressed her forehead against mine. My lips found hers again, and I reveled in the softness and coolness of her skin.

Yes, this was happening. Whatever heartache to come, this moment – this single, _blissfu__l_ moment with this lovely creature's arms wrapped around me, and all her naïve belief in the goodness of my heart – made the heartache worth it.


End file.
